Since I was a young girl, I have always found what made me happiest was found outdoors. I mean, the Great Outdoors. Growing up in a suburb of New York City made me appreciate every exquisite moment of my woodland experiences and made them even more important to me. That's how it felt, important. Even at an early age, I knew that being in nature was special. I used to pick up individual rocks and study their color and content, trying to imagine which mountain they were once part of. I'd wonder what the song birds were singing to one another. That love of wilderness and sense of curiosity stayed with me for my whole life.

Through the following years, I had some wonderful adventures in wild lands all over the country and sort of felt like I was a guest. I kid from New York, visiting the woods. Don't get me wrong, my experiences were exciting, peaceful, challenging, educational and I loved every minute of it. But it wasn't until later in life that I found a kind of connection to the wilderness that I never could have foreseen.

It was just before I turned 32 that I decided that I wanted to be responsible for the meat that I was eating. I wanted to learn from and honor the animals instead of paying for meat neatly wrapped in a package that came from who knows where and slaughtered who knows how.

First however, I need to preface this with a clear statement. We all have our personal truths. Choosing to be an ethical hunter in order to feed myself and my family is my personal truth. I am in no way trying to condemn those who do not share my perspective, rather simply give you insight into how I personally feel about ethical hunting and how the practice of pulling the trigger to fill my freezer has changed my life for the better.

So there I was, with an idea of what I wanted and no experience whatsoever. Did I mention I grew up outside of New York City? Rifles were not possessed in my house growing up and no one in my family was a hunter. I decided to buy a gun and become as proficient as I could in order to make the cleanest, most humane shot possible. I remember thinking to myself, "I want to be as familiar with this rifle as I am with my iPhone." I meant, I wanted to instinctively know every function, its weight loaded and unloaded and be able to operate the safety and the trigger with such confidence that I would be less likely to fudge the whole thing if adrenaline got the better of me. I didn't know what to expect, I'd never been hunting before! I took every class, clinic and course I could register for. I practiced my heart out because I knew that I had to do my due diligence for the sake of the deer that I would later hunt. I remember at that time, my greatest fear in walking down this path was wounding the deer and having it suffer. I was horrified at the thought. That fear drove me to take learning how to shoot, track and listen extraordinarily seriously. I knew that this too was important.

The day came when hunting season opened. I was ready. With an open mind, an open heart and no expectation, I drove my truck to the hunting grounds and walked toward the woods. I stalked into the dark woods during the pre-dawn hours grateful for the light of the bright full moon. The sound of the frozen ground and frosted leaf litter crunched softly under my footsteps. To me, it sounded as loud as a freight train. Perhaps the only thing louder in that forest was the beating of my own heart pounding in my chest.

I walked a long way, probably a mile in the dark before the first signs of a lightening sky began to change the shade of the now, just visible horizon line. I settled into a patch of mountain laurel on the left bank of a dried up ravine and waited. I waited for hours while my toes began to ache from the cold despite that the sun had risen clear into view. I felt tired from the cold and now that much of my early boost of adrenaline had faded, so had I.

I laid down in the freshly fallen leaves beside the mountain laurel and breathed deeply. The kind of breathing when you are in a deep restful sleep. I must have been laying down for three or four minutes when it felt as if someone's hands grabbed my by the shoulders to shake me awake and say," Get up! Rifle ready!". So that's just what I did, and with my heart pounding and wondering," what in the world was that?!" I heard a rustle.

I looked to my left and saw the flicker of a white tail walking up the same ravine I had traveled in hours earlier, in my very own tracks. I slowly raised my scope to get a better view and saw this deer had antlers. I didn't count how many points and didn't care. I just knew that the moment I had imagined and trained for so long was right here.

As he approached I took aim at the top corner of his shoulder and pulled the trigger. The following moment was one that was so filled with detail, action and emotion it can be difficult to organize in a slow motion understanding. I remember that he bolted into the nearby pine trees for about 20 yards. Although I was sure I'd hit him, I didn't even hear my own rifle go off. Only when I got up from my place in the laurels had I realized that I shot him from no more than 10 yards away. I made my approach to this deer and stood beside him in the moments of his last breath and began to cry. I cried not because of sadness but because of extreme gratitude. This magnificent eight point buck died so that I can feed myself and my family.Although I was hunting alone, I thanked him out loud. I called him "The Prince of the Forest" because of his majestic shape and large antlers. I worked quickly to gut him, saving all the organ meat I could use and leaving the rest for the other inhabitants of the forest. I tied a rope around is antlers and pulled him out of the woods 20 paces at a time for a mile back to my truck. The Prince of the Forest out weighed me by a good 20 pounds or so and made me work hard to take him out of that forest. It felt right to work that hard to harvest a precious life like that. For whatever reason, It felt like another way to show my appreciation for the gift that was given to me.

I used every part of that deer. He fed me and my family for more than a month. I brain-tanned his hide, saved his sinew for sewing projects and made dog treats out of the organ meats. Every little piece was precious and treasured. I'd never had that kind of relationship with a store bought steak and was profoundly grateful for the perspective I had gained. In the moment that I watched the deer's last breath leave his body, he gave me something more than his life. He gave me a kind of understanding and connection that I had never experienced. A connection to him, to the wilderness, to the many animals in the forest and to my own path. In that moment, I knew that I was put on this earth to be a hunter and I was taking my place in this world.

I have not been hunting, but I truly appreciate the skill, utility, and thought that you clearly bring to your hunting. The mindfulness is evident and beautiful. Thank you for sharing this experience.

Reply

Katie Larimer

6/13/2015 11:51:09 pm

Julie, thank you for your kind words. Indeed being mindful helps me reconnect my whole self to the wilderness. For me, hunting thrusts me and keeps me in the absolute present. Listening and watching the animals of the forest, feeling changing winds and weather. I am completely part of it, we all are. It's extraordinarily rewarding.

Thank you, Teresa. It is a privilege to share these defining experiences. I appreciate your kind words.

Reply

Angela

6/13/2015 11:43:24 pm

What a beautiful reflection on hunting as a sacred practice-- one which is fundamentally grounded in connecting with the wilderness rather than egoic domination of it. Such an inspiring post.

Reply

Katie Larimer

6/13/2015 11:53:19 pm

Angela, thank you for your thoughtful comment. I am glad that the feeling of how sacred hunting is to me came through in this post. I appreciate your comments.

Reply

Sherry

6/14/2015 03:29:42 pm

Prince of the Forest! How awesome is that? Once you calmed down and relaxed then God brought the deer to you.

I want to learn to hunt, I like deer and would prefer to feed my family with nice, lean deer meat, cleanly harvested by me. My biggest fear is that I'll see this beautiful majestic deer and will be so mesmerized by its' beauty that I won't be able to shoot it. After all, I'm in his space, on his land, and I feel like I'm the intruder. Clearly I have to get over this feeling if I'm going to learn to hunt. In my late teens I went to a forest on a picnic with a boyfriend and we went for a walk thru the woods. We saw 2 deers and they were so beautiful, they looked right at us and were not afraid of us. We were very still and they let us look at them for about 1-2 minutes before they moved on. I just remember thinking to this day that they were the most beautiful, gentle animals I had ever seen.

Your Prince of the Forest is a beautiful story. If I can shoot a deer, I know I will cry like a baby. :)

Reply

Katie Larimer

6/14/2015 04:16:44 pm

Sherry, what a wonderful response. It's true that it was his forest and his home, but I was not an intruder. Once you spend time in the forest listening and learning, you tend to lose track of boundaries and begin to feel a deep connection to the land and all the animals who live there. Killing is by no means the act of hunting that I enjoy most. It is the necessary step to feed my family. It is powerfully emotional and certainly not easy. I commend you for wanting to learn how to hunt despite the challenges you may face. It's never easy but, for me, has been the more rewarding than I can possibly express. It's because of this, that I carry a constant feeling of gratitude with me wherever I go. Thank you so much for your thoughtful comments.

Reply

Leave a Reply.

Katie Larimer

Has a passion for adventure, ethical hunting and honoring the animals she harvests by making the most out of each animal.